Chance
by Clockeater
Summary: It's not often he wakes up here, and there's always bitterness in returning home. -Iggychu-


I'm not exactly sure where the idea to this came from, but it probably had sumthin to do with my desire to steal a boat during the summer...

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

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><p>It is the rocking of the boat that wakes him; it's different from the usual gentle rolling waves. Light filters into the dim cabin and he can see dust motes slowly floating around. The room is in an orderly mess, the plates and cups, their china, all stacked to one side and the piles of papers are shuffled off to the other side of the room.<p>

He wondered how long he's been asleep this time, his breath stinks and there's a stale taste in his mouth. Swinging his legs out of his hammock, his foot hits an empty bottle of rum and it rolls across the room, the noise bringing an ache to his already throbbing head.

More than anything he just wants to lie back down and go to sleep, but there is no telling how much time he has here and he is _not_ going to waste it.

When he goes out on to the deck, he finds Yao, as he was sure he would, sifting through his numerous scrolls. Yao appears to take no notice of him as he approaches, but when he is about to wrap his arms around Yao, Yao speaks.

"Arthur." His voice is clear and high- rather refreshing Arthur finds. Though, Arthur notices there is something accusing in Yao's tone.

Arthur says nothing, instead wrapping his arms around Yao and pulling him close.

"Arthur," Yao says again, though this time his tone is harsh. It's hard, Arthur finds, to adjust to the name of 'Arthur.' It's so rare that he wakes up here- he's so used to his other name.

"You were asleep for three months this time!" Yao is saying.

"Sorry," Arthur mumbles against Yao's soft black hair. He doesn't like talking about this- it's meaningless and his time here is limited, but Yao never seems to understand that.

"It's hard enough without you sleeping all the time and I can never wake you and-"

The easiest way to shut Yao up, Arthur discovers, is with a kiss. Yao initially resists, but then he melts into the kiss, parting his lips and letting Arthur in. When they break apart, Arthur rests his head against Yao's forehead and takes time to stare into Yao's eyes- it's been a long time since he can stare into these golden eyes in peace.

"It didn't mean anything- that kiss," Arthur says, though his actions and expressions say otherwise. He runs his thumb up and down Yao's cheek before resting it at the corner of Yao's eye.

"You always say that," Yao mumbles back. He pecks Arthur on his left eyebrow- he's grown to be rather fond of Arthur's larger-than-usual eyebrows- and cranes his neck up as he does so. "It didn't mean anything to me either."

Arthur's green eyes- Yao once admitted (to his embarrassement) that he found them to be enthralling- seem to smile as he takes Yao's head between his hands and resumes kissing him.

They rest for a while, Arthur's head on Yao's chest- he likes to listen to Yao's heartbeat- while Yao runs his hands through Arthur's short choppy hair. Yao hums softly, an ancient melody that Arthur knows very well. Arthur sighs contently, these moments are rare and so far in between. The rocking of the boat is soothing and Arthur would prefer to stay like this, but Yao has other plans.

He grunts as he shoves Arthur off him and moves to grab a paddle. Arthur sits as Yao begins to move the boat along the water. He focuses on the ripples the boat makes, shattering the glass-like surface, the perfect replica of the cloudy sky ruined.

Eventually they meet up with other boats and Yao barters with a few for a low price on the foods he wants. Arthur watches, ponders, mulling over these familiar faces in his mind. (There's a German, there's an Italian- but which name should he be calling them by?) He doesn't have enough energy to fight back as he normally would when Yao declares him to be useless. ("What kind of gentleman are you?")

Once finished, Yao moves the boat to a lonely spot with no other boats in sight as night begins to fall on their vast ocean. He joins Arthur at the edge of the boat with green tea for both of them and they stare down at the clear water. Beneath the softly rolling waves they can make out a city that had once been inhabited. But now, like all the other cities in this world, it is sunken beneath the water, falling apart with only bits and pieces left.

"What city do you think this is?" Yao asks, sipping his tea. It's a game they play, always constantly moving to a different location and trying to remember which city this was, what it used to be like.

A few fish dart in and out of the broken and shattered windows of the remaining buildings.

Arthur shrugs. "Manchester, perhaps." There's something about the city that reminds him of Manchester, and he should know it best, after all. A sudden wave pitches them forward and Arthur thinks he can spot part of the Manchester Wheel.

A flock of birds suddenly land on the water and the fish quickly hide from sight.

They sit like this for a little while longer, watching the birds preen themselves and the fish that weave amongst the buildings, until Yao decides that it's time for them to sleep. ("We need to have energy for tomorrow!")

"Good night, love," Arthur says, blowing out the candles in the cabin and stepping over the discarded rum bottle.

Yao purses his lips. Arthur's "good nights" always sound like a "good bye" to him.

"You better not be going to sleep for a long time again," Yao mumbles sleepily. "It's always so lonely when you do…"

Arthur smiles sadly and, without meaning to, waits for Yao to finish his sentence with an 'aru' or 'ahen,' or even 'opium bastard.' But it doesn't come- of course it doesn't. Arthur is greeted only with the soft sounds of Yao's snores.

He pulls a sheet over Yao's body and presses a kiss to Yao's eyelid. They are the same person, Arthur thinks of them, yet how they each act towards him is completely different. He kisses Yao's lips gently, with longing.

"It doesn't mean anything," he whispers, though this is not true, and it is only routine- a stupid and flimsy way to try to protect himself.

Arthur climbs into his hammock, wishing he could stay longer with this Yao, but he drifts off to sleep instead.

"-up, opium bastard! Wake up!"

Arthur wakes to find that he had fallen asleep at the conference table. He blinks up at Yao, then realizes that this is China and he's back to being England again.

_Stupid, stupid,_ he berates himself in time to China saying, "Stupid, ahen! Don't fall sleep in the middle of the meeting!"

"If your voice wasn't so bloody boring to listen to, I wouldn't have fallen asleep," England returns. This isn't what he means to say- he would have liked to tell China that his voice is beautiful and that he loves to listen to him hum. In the times before the wars, before things between them were messed up, he would have told China this. But he doesn't and a look of hurt flashes across China's face, but it's quickly gone.

China opens his mouth to retort, but closes it when he hears Russia calling for him. Irritation crosses his face, but he goes to Russia's side anyways and leaves the room.

England groans and rests his head on his arms. In this world he is filled with so much regret. He still loves China so, _so _much, but he can never say this to China- he is sure that China no longer feels the same.

More than anything he wishes to go back to the world where he is Arthur and China is Yao, where things are simpler and they can love each other. It's almost like he has a second chance in that world. It doesn't matter if that world is real or a figment of his imagination- he'll take it anyways.

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><p>I'm not sure what type of ending this is...my brain wants to say that it's a happy ending, but i dunno...<p> 


End file.
